


The Taste of Nightshade

by milo_83



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F, Five Stages of Grief, Grief/Mourning, Maven doesnt know how to deal with feelings, Nightmares, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2019-11-25 21:57:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18171962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milo_83/pseuds/milo_83
Summary: Maven Black-Briar never knew how to be in love, but she doesnt know how to grieve either.





	1. Denial

Things seemed different. The grass was greener and lighter, something she wasn’t used to. The clouds didn’t cover the sun, allowing it to shine down on the forest around her. The air she breathed even had a different quality, and a smell that seemed oddly familiar. A smell that she should have been suspicious of.

She took a step, the grass- no, the ground itself crunched beneath her shoes. This area was dry and peaceful, definitely not near her home. Another step forward and a field came into view. She wasn’t quite sure if it was there with the last step, but those thoughts somehow didn’t cross her mind. Instead she focused on a figure within the grass and purple briar-twined flowers.

The flirtatious blonde seemed to dance with the sun, her body, clad in red and black, moving freely and with a passion, yet it seemed twisted and painful. With a turn, their eyes met and the distance between them closed nigh instantaneously. Black gloved hands found the face of their new company, running along her cheeks and into her raven hair, and a thumb traced along her lips. The light haired woman smiled, her mouth slanting in such a way that looked almost intoxicated and her eyes burned with a lustful euphoria. 

Gloved fingers moved to make room for her lips pressing into the others, and a fire seemed to light between them as they pressed closer. She found herself closing her eyes, taking in the feeling of the heat between them, and she grabbed her hips, trying to ensure thats she stays. She pulled her closer still, seeking the warmth that her body seemed to bring, but it never seemed to be enough; her fingertips dug into the hips beneath them and the woman’s arms wrapped around her partner’s shoulders. The heat only grew more yet it never got warmer on her body, driving her to kiss deeper, to kiss desperately.

Only when she pulled away did it start to burn. The searing, scorching pain started at her legs, and the screams seemed to come from miles away. She fell to the ground and the woman in her company stared down at her almost emotionlessly. Her own screams echoed around them though her voice remained unused, and with some effort she weakly choked out a single word.

“Astrid.....”

Astrid’s green eyes dug into her very soul, simultaneously apathetic and filled with an emotion she could not describe. Blistering hurt spread further up her legs, and upon glancing down the flesh itself seemed to charr and shrivel away. She could only watch as it crawled steadily, burning away the clothes on her legs, clothes she found did not belong to her. Rendered useless up to her knees, she threw her head to look for help but only to find that Astrid was gone. Her hands grasped in futile and frantic need- her legs, the ground, her face. 

The screaming echo itself seemed to shift, and the hands on her tortured face felt warped. Blazing and suffering injury sped up her body as quick as paper burned, then crawled up her arms and to the hands that muffled her howls. The taste of ash filled her mouth, the smell of burning flesh became nauseating, and all hope drained from her soul. As the fire inside of her burned up her chest, a glint above her begged for her attention. A blade. Held by unknown hands, it was a blade that she knew would take her out of this hell.

“Please..... kill me.....” The words struggled   out in a voice that did not belong to her before the burn rendered her throat useless. Without hesitation it complied, and as the blade came down into her scarred chest she looked into the reflection only to see the face of Astrid looking back.

The darkness flooded her vision, and the world seemed to wash away, leaving her with nothing but Astrid’s voice in her ears.

“Maven, you idiot, what have you done?”

.....

...

.

_Whats the saying? The silence is deafening? Ah, whatever._

Maven opened her eyes. Reluctantly or eagerly- it did not matter, they were open, weren’t they? Its not like it made much of a difference, the room was dark save for the cloudy blue light seeping through the cracks of doors and the smoldering embers still left in her fireplace. She found her head falling to the side to watch- almost glare- at the ashen and charred logs held in their confines to her left. After a dream like that, it was not a welcome sight. 

She decided to avoid it, returning her gaze to the barely illuminated ceiling above her. Maven didn’t need to look to know that the sheets were a mess, strewn and tangled from a night of thrashing. The night dress she wore was tugged in ways that did not allow comfort or functionality, the neckline far in places that left her quite... indecent. Her hand found its way to her exposed chest and she frowned, the cold being an unwelcome feeling on the usually warm area. Maven lifted herself to a sitting position, her hair falling into a disheveled frame around her face, and proceeded to adjust the sleep clothes into a less compromising state. Though she was alone, she was still a woman of dignity.

Silence clung to the corners of the room around her, making the impact of her hands falling to her lap louder than it should have been. Maven sat there on her bed, not particularly looking at anything, though her eyes flicked around the room. Something about sitting up made the emptiness around her feel all the more persistent. She put unnecessary thought into running her hands over the bed, fixing the blankets, begging herself not to put her mind on what she woke up from.

The bed was cold. Maven blinked as she felt it not only on her fingertips but in the festering thoughts being poorly repressed in her tired state. She frowned and closed her eyes, unaware of the tightening of her own fist in the sheets, feeling like a fool at the thought, at such a petty and cliché thing to be going through her head- the loneliness of waking up from a dream involving... her. With a deep breath, Maven relaxed her hand in favor of bringing it to her face and rubbing her eyes. Another deep breath and she let the quiet bring her back to her current state of being. In bed, underdressed, and realizing that getting up and getting ready would likely be preferable to what shes doing now.

A noise of complaint escaped from Maven’s throat when her feet hit the freezing floorboards, but she stood anyways. She ignored it. The clothes on her body quietly slipped off and down into a pile by her feet, the hairs on her now bare skin bristled in response to the chill and Maven shuddered. Her arms wrapped around her body in the moment it took to walk over to her wardrobe, but only to tear them away in favor of pulling out her desired clothing. With some tugging, fastening, and adjusting, Maven was clothed again and the warmth of coverage was allowed to encase her.

Routine took over, the familiarity of many mornings guiding her feet and hands. It didn’t take much thought in her head yet she still thought of nothing. She didn’t allow herself to think about anything. Maven fixed her hair with quick, nimble, fingers, eyes staring without emotion to her front. She made her bed with practiced efficiency, and she snuffed the gentle cinders with a scowl. At the impacts of the stick seeking to push the dying life of the internal fires toward the cold, small and harmless embers crumbled to the pit below. Maven continued to frown. She did not let her mind wander.

...

.

Breakfast was quiet as always, no one’s eyes met the others and not a word was spoken. Ingun and Hemming sat as far away as they could from each other and Maven took the head of the table as she does every morning. The stillness brought out the noises not usually heard, every shift, every scrape, every sigh. Maven, observant and attentive out of necessity, noticed that a lot of those sounds came from Hemming. Upon looking at her son, she saw the discomfort that came with the look he always had when he was aware of something that would inconvenience his mother. All she had to do was look at him, and the moment he met her eyes he knew to speak.

“Mother, we’ve lost contact with the shipment to Solitude...” Hemming seemed to shrink in his seat. The news of shipment complications were never easy, but issues with a shipment of this size was much worse. “There has been no news of it arriving and it is well past the expected date...” Maven could not say she was surprised, just as she could not say she was not annoyed. A sigh escaped from her even if she didn’t want it to.

“I’ll take care of it.” Maven’s icy voice made even Ingun shift in her seat. Hemming cleared his throat and fiddled with his silverware.

“Yes. Of course, mother.”

...

.

Maven has always hated the smell of the Thieves Guild, though that is to be expected when someone makes their home in a sewer. She would avoid staying down in the Flagon and Cistern for longer than needed, even being down there for a minute made her stink- just like the rest of those damn thieves. However, business was business and that’s what she was there for. A hush seemed to consume the Cistern as Maven made her way inside, various thieves looked at her with what could only be interpreted as either disgust or fear. Maybe both. She ignored the glares, something she had become very skilled with.

Hands on her hips, Maven’s eyes scanned around the room, passing over the faces of the Guild members in search of their boss. In the distance, she saw the man named Mercer Frey standing in a pathetic little area with his arms crossed, deep in conversation with Brynjolf who seemed at least a little peeved.

 _Ugh. They both look so greasy._  She made her way toward them, anyone in her path knowing to get out of the way. Maybe it was just Maven fooling herself, but the Guild members seemed much more eager to cower away from her. Brynjolf didn’t try to ignore her approach, his eyes watched her with some caution and curiosity as Mercer kept his gaze steadily away from the Nord woman. It wasn’t until Maven had stopped in front of the two men and cleared her throat to announce her presence that Mercer even spared her a glance. He stretched his lips into a smile that did not reach his eyes, and though Maven felt a twinge of annoyance, she let it go.

“Maven. Lovely to see you. What brings you here?” Something in his voice told Maven that it actually wasn’t lovely to see her, but she didn’t much care. She was not there for pleasantries.

“I have a job for you.” Maven’s arms crossed in front of her and she shifted her weight, eyeing Mercer as his smile fell slightly. “It seems that an important shipment of mine was lost and I need you to find it. I last had contact with it while it was on it’s way to Solitude.”

“Lost shipment to Solitude?” Mercer’s voice strained slightly, trying not to let himself sound displeased. He glanced at Brynjolf, who had backed away a few steps to keep from getting involved. “Thats.... we’re very occupied right now-“ Maven cut him off with a scoff. 

“I don’t care,” She stepped forward until her height towered above Mercer’s, watching him falter in discomfort as he made a futile attempt at leveling their eyes. “I need it done. Its not like your Guild is in any position to deny whatever gold it can get, anyways.” Oh, Mercer did not like that. Maven held back a grin when she saw his grimace, knowing he could not refute her. 

“.....We’ll get it done, then.” His voice was just short of a petty and indignant growl, much like the tone a child would take when forced to do chores he was avoiding.

“Good. It has seemed to have gone missing past Whiterun, perhaps start there.” Maven didn’t need a response, she turned away from the Guild Master and started in the direction back to the surface, eager to get away from the stench. Murmurs from the two men behind her snuck their way back into the atmosphere, indecipherable but noticeably peeved. She didn’t bother listening to them, instead she kept her eyes forward and on her exit.

A flash of light hair tempted the corner of Maven’s eyes, her feet stopped without her permission and it seemed that the world blurred in her vision. Dread wrapped itself around her very soul, and logic dissipated into nothing. It was ridiculous. Absolutely absurd. By sheer will, Maven turned her head and took in the small blonde.

Vex. Of course. Feeling returned to Maven’s fingertips and a breath forced its way into her lungs. She didn’t even realize she wasn’t breathing. Her eyes wandered over the thief without thought, and Vex shifted uncomfortably.

“....Is there something wrong?” The venom in the question was impossible to hide, slapping Maven out of whatever stupid state she was just in. 

“Nothing you should be questioning.” It didn’t make much sense, no, but she turned and sped her way out- she ran away. Just like she did before, did she not? Her face, her heart, her everything burned.

Stop it, Maven.

The clean air rushed around her, bringing about a much needed relief. She cooled down immediately, and her head cleared. People milled around in the city, the sun shining down and providing a slight amount of warmth in the otherwise inescapable cold. 

Maven straightened her clothing and sighed. She wasn’t burning. The world went on. Things remained the same.


	2. Anger

She stared ahead into the black and white environment. Snow. The mountains closed her in, but the wind tore at her very being. Shockingly, she felt perfectly fine. With a shift of her gaze she saw her sitting, exposed. Her blonde hair cascaded down her bare back, the pale of her skin complementing the environment.

 

“Astrid, you’re going to freeze.” She jolted at the sound of the other woman, then turned her head to meet her golden eyes. Astrid’s green eyes looked drained. The golden-eyed woman sighed and approached her, the wind whipping around her darker hair. She stepped over a patch of purple flowers, instead crushing the briars that surround it. Ignoring the thorns in her shoe, she took another step. The crunch of snow under her foot seemed to echo around them. With another step, she was on her knees next to the naked and vulnerable blonde. Astrid didn’t look at her, she hunched over to try to warm herself.

 

The raven-haired woman pulled a blanket over Astrid’s shoulders, wrapping her arms around her in the process. With a tug, Astrid was in an embrace atop the other’s lap. She curled into the arms of her partner, taking in the new warmth she so desperately needed. 

 

“Darling, what are you doing out here?” Her golden eyes searched Astrid’s for an answer. There was none. Instead, Astrid leaned forward to kiss the source of her heat, her life. There was no ulterior lust in the kiss, it was gentle. If she closed her eyes and put her mind to it, she could almost believe it was full of love. Reluctantly, they separated.

 

“Please come back, Maven...”

 

The flowers wilted. Maven couldn’t differentiate between the wind and her heartbeat. Everything felt so cold.

 

Her numb fingers gripped at an empty blanket, unable to grasp Astrid’s absence. Maven blinked. In front of her was her wall, her room, her house. She was in her bed, awake and shivering. A grunt came from her throat as she threw the blankets and furs back over herself and curled up, trying to chase whatever warmth she could obtain.

 

_ Don’t cry. _

 

She scolded herself for such a ridiculous thought.

 

.....

 

...

 

.

 

Maven stabbed her food with her fork, causing Hemming and Ingun to both flinch at the aggression. They didn’t dare say a word. The only sound in the room was Maven’s foot tapping in agitation and the occasional impact of utensils against the plate. Hemming’s eyes darted between his mother and the meal in front of him, worry and fear stitched into the creases of his face. 

 

“I don’t have the patience to wait for results, Hemming.” Her son visibly tensed at the tone of her voice, eyebrows knitting together in what could possibly be interpreted as irritation. 

 

“I cannot give you results that do not exist, mother. It has only been a day-“

 

He was interrupted by Maven’s fist slamming against the table, and he winced away in surprise. Hemming’s line of sight shot up to his mother’s only to be met with burning fury.

 

“I said I don’t have the patience to wait, Hemming! What in the world makes you think I would have the patience to deal with your damn insolence and incompetence?”

 

“Mother, I—“

 

“You will NOT interrupt me!” Maven stood in her fury, casting a shadow over her son, who froze with fear. “You exist purely to serve me! If you do not serve your purpose, I do not have any use for you and you have no use in this world. Do you understand me? Without me, you are nothing-!” Her voice broke and died before she could continue further, and she felt a burning blur her vision. Ingun and Hemming both watched her with wide eyes, curious and scared. 

 

_ You’re nothing without her. _

 

A scream of frustration escaped her throat as her hand slapped the table, causing her drink to topple and spill. She couldn’t let them see her like this. With a turn, she left, making it clear that she was done with breakfast.

 

Hemming watched her leave, confusion plaguing his mind. When he had glanced into her eyes, something felt off. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that there was pain behind the anger of his mother’s gaze.

 

...

.

 

No clouds covered the sun as it sat in the center of the sky. Despite the direct radiation of warmth, Riften’s very atmosphere was chilled. The wave of people that accompanied the coming of noon flooded the marketplace with indiscernible chatter. Maven watched at a distance, letting the cold wind blow through her hair and cool her very core. With a deep breath in, she closed her eyes. With a slow exhale, she looked out into the surrounding people. 

 

That morning, after breakfast, she immediately had gone out to do her typical business, deciding that it was the best way to move on from the previous events. Unfortunately, there was only so much of Ungrien and Indaryn she could take before she needed to leave. Working today only seemed to intensify the burning fire she felt deep in her stomach and throat, thus she concluded that she deserved a day off. Now, Maven leaned on the wall of her very own house and found entertainment in the interactions of those in her sight, comparing them to bugs crawling all over and inquiring about new shipments of shit. That was a good word to describe this city, was it not?

 

_ Shit. _

 

Maven’s sight was quick to latch onto a distant woman leaning her way over Grelka’s stand, her intent written in bold all over her body. Her blonde hair fell around her exposed shoulders, smooth and small with elegant arms to match. Maven roved her gaze down the woman’s curvaceous body, noting all the language it expressed. Face to face with Haelga, poor Grelka was left red and stammering. Maven felt that familiar fire burn in her chest.

 

She watched as Haelga brought a hand up to curl Grelka’s hair around her finger, low cut shirt pulled lower against the wood of the stand, and as they got closer in her vision. Closer, and closer still until they were close enough for Maven to realize she was walking toward them- towards HER- at a quick pace. She had just enough time to slow down and regain her composure, even if she did not understand why the sight angered her so much. As she approached, Grelka jumped back and reverted to her usual cool and stone-faced front, confusing Haelga before she also turned her face to look at the older woman. At the sight of her, Haelga’s smile widened into something somehow more devious than before.

 

“Maven.~ Can I help you with something?” The words were said almost like she was the one running the stand and not Grelka, who tried her best to stay out of whatever was happening. Haelga turned her body towards Maven, not bothering to pull up her shirt in the slightest.

 

“You’re being indecent.” Maven pulled up her front for her, using only her thumb and forefinger to make the action more discreet. 

 

“And why does it matter to you?” Haelga spoke with a barely stifled laugh of amusement, scanning the business woman’s face. Maven found herself frowning, trying to scavenge for some reason it might matter to her how Haelga practices her “Dibellan arts.” 

 

“....Because you are wasting MY time by distracting the people I need to do business with.” That was a lie. Maven knew that she had no business with Grelka, she only hoped Haelga didn’t also know that.

 

“Hmm,” Standing upright, the smaller woman looked up into Maven’s golden eyes, which just barely kept from avoiding her. Stepping forward, Haelga just barely brushed against her. “....Are you jealous, Maven?~” She startled at the accusation.

 

“Jealous?! Of what?” A hand made its way to Maven’s waist, squeezing softly before it got smacked away.

 

“Of me.” Maven took a step away from Haelga, feeling a blush grace her cheeks with embarrassment and anger. 

 

“Are you insane?!” No. She wasn’t. Maven did have a tendency to be possessive and jealous of anyone she gets close to, and while she was most definitely not romantically involved with Haelga, she couldn’t ignore the nights they spent together, even if the last time they met for that was a long while ago.

 

“Oh, please.” Haelga chased after the other, ignoring the stares from many people around. “I know how you want the blondes to yourself.” 

 

Maven lashed out, rage burning in her entire soul and leaving its mark on Haelga’s cheek. Grelka swung around her stand to catch the woman now stumbling with a hand to her face. Maven didn’t care to watch the aftermath. She turned and walked away, mind swimming with thoughts and emotions.

 

So much for calming down.

 

_ I slapped her.  _

 

Oh please, like that hasn’t happened before. Besides, she likes it.

 

_ How could she say that? _

 

She doesn’t even know exactly what she said. She knows nothing about her.

 

_ How could  **she**  say that? _

 

Say what?  **She** hasn’t said anything in years.

 

_ And who’s fault is that? _

 

Maven paused, looking at the graveyard behind her house. Her feet led her to the nightshade growing in clumps on the resting places of strangers. She’s been here many times before to get into the Cistern with little detection, but this time she knew she wasn’t here for the Guild.

 

“Im not the one who killed her.” 

 

With her senses regained, Maven led herself out of the graveyard. On her way, she crushed a purple flower underneath her boot, leaving it broken and dying.


End file.
